


Challenge

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: BDSM, Flogging, Gun Kink, M/M, One Shot, Porn Battle, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur flogs Eames. What more do you need?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> http://i664.photobucket.com/albums/vv10/kahtyasofia/Inception/tumblr_l7mecfNjND1qctuj8o1_1280.jpg _because echoing_dream likes shoulders and flogging._

Eames loves to antagonize Arthur. Some think it’s out of hostility. Everyone who matters understands, it’s about the challenge; the challenge of getting a true reaction out of Arthur, instead of just a pointed glare. They also challenge one another to be better, to perform better. Eames has the brilliant ideas, and Arthur executes them brilliantly.

However, only Arthur knows when it is that Eames is challenging _him_. After any job with a particularly long, or intensely complicated forge, Eames pushes Arthur. He pushes hard, with an edge, struggling to evoke a very particular reaction from Arthur.

Arthur has to give in. It’s his responsibility. Eames is phenomenal at his job, and Arthur will do what it takes to keep him operating at full capacity.

Today, Eames harangued Arthur, but didn’t follow it up with a smile. He didn’t tease Arthur, he tried to draw blood.

This was how Eames came to be secured, by his wrists, to Arthur’s ceiling.

Arthur stood back to admire his work. He tugged down the edges of his waistcoat, then smoothed the front with his palms. Eames was naked, his arms stretched out and up toward where Arthur had run the ropes through pulleys. He’d tied the ends off in the rings of the black leather cuffs that encircled Eames’ wrists. His tattoos rippled with each flex of his muscles, as he tugged against his restraints. A light sheen of sweat had just begun to cover his skin.

Stepping around to stand in front of Eames, Arthur abruptly kicked gently at his legs, forcing him to widen his stance. The result was to increase the strain on his broad shoulders. Eames grunted in response, but otherwise didn’t react. His head hung low between his shoulders. Arthur could hear him breathe slow and deep, as Eames struggled to keep his composure. His cock was already thick and heavy, just beginning to jut upwards in arousal.

Arthur moved in closer, crowding Eames’s body. He could feel Eames’ heat as it seeped through his clothing. He unfastened the buttons on his cuffs and began to roll them over his forearms.

“Eames,” Arthur said firmly. “Eames,” he barked, when he first got no response.

“Yes, sir?” Eames responded, voice rougher than usual. He lifted his head slowly, as if the effort to do so was great.

Arthur leaned in and let his mouth hover just above Eames’ full lips. “How are your shoulders?”

“They ache, sir,” Eames whispered against Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur reached up and slid his fingers into the palm of one of Eames’ hands. The skin was still warm. Very good. He squeezed Eames’ fingers gently, and received the same in answer.

“Do you trust me, Eames?” Arthur asked, letting his lips just graze Eames’.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” Eames’ accent always became heavier, less cultured, when Arthur had him riding the edge of arousal like this.

“Do you trust me to give you what you need?” Arthur licked Eames’ lower lip.

“Yes, sir,” Eames groaned, low in his throat, and tried to chase Arthur’s mouth.

“What’s your safe word?” Arthur demanded, pulling back, out of Eames’ reach.

“Santorini, sir,” Eames moaned, his lips looking obscene when they puckered slightly on the ‘r’.

“Santorini,” Arthur repeated, smiling at the memory of the night in a luxury hotel, when Eames first confessed his need for this.

Reaching back, Arthur removed his gun from the hidden holster in the back of his trousers. He held it in both hands, letting Eames see it. Arthur saw the tension in his arms and shoulders increase. He knew it wasn’t fear, though, since Eames’ fully hard cock bounced slightly, when his eyes landed on the gun. Arthur pressed the release to remove the magazine, then pulled back the slide to eject the round in the chamber. He caught it easily in the palm of one hand.

Eames licked his lips.

Arthur pressed the gun flat against Eames’ belly, and watched the muscles tense at the touch of the cold metal. Eames gasped and Arthur chuckled. He dragged the weapon up Eames’ hot and slick skin. Eames gasped. Arthur watched the muscles of his abdomen flex and ripple with the motion of the gun. He circled a nipple with the front sight. Eames moaned. Arthur shifted, and used the sight to flick Eames’ second nipple.

“Please, sir,” Eames pleaded in a harsh whisper, his accent thick and clipped, all hints of posh gone. His desperation made the ‘sir’ sound like an endearment.

Arthur pressed the barrel of the gun under Eames’ chin.

Eames exhaled, rough and broken. The muscles in his arms rippled as he clenched his fists. It made the tattoos on his shoulders, and the one beneath his arm, dance.

“I’m going to flog you,” Arthur said, voice hard and stern.

“If it pleases you, sir,” Eames said, on a sigh.

He was so very ready.

Arthur tossed his gun behind Eames, so that it landed silently on the bed. He skimmed his palms up Eames’ sides, along his straining arms, and gripped his fingers tightly.

Eames squeezed Arthur’s hand in response. His skin had cooled slightly, but was still very warm.

“I’m going to flog your calves, your thighs, your ass, your back, and your shoulders,” Arthur walked around to Eames’ back, trailing his fingers over Eames’ ribs. “I’m going to pink your skin, then I’m going to turn it red. Then I’m going to raise welts on you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. As it pleases you, sir.”

Arthur took up his black and red, bullhide flogger. It had a full head of tails, cut thick, so they would create a very pleasing thud, at the same time they would sting Eames’ skin deliciously.

He started slow. With criss-crossing motions, Arthur scourged Eames’ skin with the flogger until it was a lovely shade of pink. He started on Eames’ calves, then worked his way up to his thighs. Arthur took particular delight in the gasps Eames’ made when the ends of the tails struck his inner thighs.

Eames had a delectable ass to begin with, but when he clenched it with each of Arthur’s blows, it made Arthur’s mouth water. The firm, round flesh pinked up nicely under Arthur’s attentions.

When the flogger landed in the small of his back, Eames arched. His moan sounded like a purr.

What Arthur liked best, though, was the sight of his flogger landing on Eames’ shoulders, then sliding off again. The red and black tails would land with a solid thud, momentarily obscuring his tattoos, before gliding down and off, leaving faint pink lines in their places. Eames’ shoulders were broad and sturdy, sprinkled lightly with freckles. The pinked skin made them stand out more. Eames flexed his shoulders with each strike of the hide tails, and Arthur wanted very much to reach out and touch.

Eames’ skin was shiny with sweat when Arthur went to work on his calves again. He scourged them, until they were bright red. Eames began to dance in place with each blow Arthur landed on his inner thighs. He struck again and again, his own ears ringing with the rhythmic thudding. Eames’ thighs were as red as he calves, and Arthur moved on.

It was hard not to focus on just Eames’ ass. Arthur loved the way the muscles clenched with each strike of the hide. He flogged Eames ass until it was a fiery red. Eames continued to dance in place, as the intensity increased. There were times Arthur thought he might break and try to pull away, evade a blow, but he never did. Arthur had trained him better than that.

When Arthur reached his lower back again, Eames’ arched sharply. He bit back a sound, but only just, and it ended up sounding like a very guttural moan. Then, Arthur reached those shoulders he loved to scourge. The play of Eames’ muscles beneath the skin, the contrast of the blue-black ink and the red of his flesh, and Arthur wanted very much to take Eames down and fuck him right then.

Instead, he set aside his flogger for the moment. He stepped close to Eames, pressing his fully clothed chest to Eames’ back, letting the fabric torment the sensitized skin.

Eames moaned.

Arthur skimmed his palms from Eames’ heated ass, to his blazing shoulders. He placed a kiss on the back of Eames’ neck.

“You’re doing so well,” Arthur breathed into Eames’ hair. “I’m so proud of you. You’re making me so happy.”

“Thank you, sir,” Eames replied, voice torn. Again, it sounded like an endearment to Arthur’s ears.

“Are you ready to continue?” Arthur asked.

“Only if it pleases you, sir,” Eames’ voice was strong, leaving no question.

Arthur ran his hands up Eames arms and felt his hands. They were cool to the touch now, when Eames squeezed his fingers. Time to bring the game home.

Arthur stepped back and took up his flogger again. Until now, it had been a warm up. Now, Arthur was going to make it really sting.

This was where Eames was going to get just want he needed. This was what he’d come to Arthur for. This was what he knew Arthur could do for him.

Arthur broke a sweat this time, flogging Eames’ calves. He felt a droplet run down his temple from his hairline. Another slid down his spine. He worked Eames hard now, raising welts on the reddened skin of his legs.

When Arthur scourged Eames’ thighs, he struck hard, going for the sharp sting over the dull thud. Eames’ couldn’t hold back his louder sounds now. His moans became sharp cries. Arthur resolved to turn them into sobs.

Arthur moved up to Eames’ ass again, really going for the sting. The white of welts quickly began to stand out against the bright red of his skin. Eames was shifting in place rhythmically. He could hold still no longer. Arthur knew he had no desire to pull away, but the sting was sharp and he had yet to get to just the right place inside his own head.

Arthur got him there with several hard blows to his shoulders. Welts rose on his skin, criss-crossing and blending with his tattoos. Arthur had obscured all the remaining freckles. Eames strained in his bonds, tugging at them roughly, but with no clear intent. Arthur’s arm was just growing tired when Eames gave in.

“Arthur,” Eames cried out between sobs. “Arthur, please. Arthur.”

Dropping his flogger to the bed, Arthur stepped around in front of Eames. He ran his hands over Eames’ chest, and around his back. Arthur cradled his face, pressed their lips together and murmured, “You did wonderfully. I’m so proud of you.”

Eames sobbed against Arthur’s mouth.

Eames leaned into him, seeking contact with his entire body. Arthur pressed back against him, grinding his own, still clothed cock, against Eames’ naked straining one. He let Eames rub against him, take comfort from the contact.

“I’m going to take you down now,” Arthur explained, seeking to soothe Eames. “I’m going to rub some oil into your skin, and then I’m going to fuck you.”

“Yes sir,” Eames said, brokenly. “If it pleases you, sir. _Please_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short piece that will eventually become a larger, longer, in depth D/s flogging story.


End file.
